


Want To Be Our Bitch?

by GhostxWriter



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blaise sandwich, Blowjobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavily Implied D/s, Implied Relationships, M/M, M/M/M sex, Multi, Semi-explicit Language, Sharing, Slight Dom!Draco, Slight Dom!Harry, Slight Sub!Blaise, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostxWriter/pseuds/GhostxWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise ends up right where he wants to be most - between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.</p><p>Was originally written and posted for Harry's birthday, July 31st.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want To Be Our Bitch?

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a oneshot that was an excuse to write pure porn - there's not much else going on. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Harry! Hope you enjoy your celebration.
> 
> All should bow before my beta, the wonderful and magnificent Twisted Mind, without whom I could not write. 
> 
> Cover-my-ass statement: All characters and settings and everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury books and any and all other entities involved. Only the plot remains the author's; she merely borrows the characters for a time and then has to send them back (mostly) undamaged.

# Want To Be Our Bitch? 

Blaise’s POV

 

I thought it rather stupid that people would say that Draco Malfoy would ever get together with Harry bleeding Potter. They used to talk about the tension and the sparks that used to fly between them was a sign of their mutual attraction or fascination with each other – rubbish!

 

They’re both such dominant personalities – The Slytherin Ice Prince and The Gryffindor Golden Boy – that it just wouldn’t have worked. They saw that; _I_ saw that; but the rest of the world?

 

 _They_ wouldn’t, or couldn’t see that … though they both amount to the same thing. Still the world saw them as some ideal couple, some picture perfect duo, a living symbol of peace between Houses so long at war. And they played along, sort of … 

 

They’re almost friends now; as the leaders of their respective Houses, they both had to make their choice and their stand in what is now ironically entitled, “ _The Last Stand_ ” by the stupid _Prophet_. After some disastrous occurrences the summer before Seventh Year - we only heard rumors, and Potter certainly isn’t talking - somehow when Potter returned to school that fall, he was … different.

 

Harder. 

 

Stronger. 

 

More powerful; more forceful.

 

Simply _more_ … filled out, for lack of better words; he grew up.

 

Did any of that make any sense? Of course not, you’re not a Slytherin; you wouldn’t understand why we hold that in such high regard. Anyhow …

 

There was something in his eyes that none of us – the us referring to Slytherin House, of course – could figure out. Potter must have figured himself out; and in so doing, he’d earned a sort of deep seated respect from us. For once, it seemed like there was a chance for the side of the Light, and those of us clinging to our neutrality finally had hope – flimsy as it might have been. 

 

Something in the way he carried himself impressed us, and Draco took the leap. As he didn’t want to take the Mark, he pulled Potter aside one day and talked privately with him about just that. I’ve no clue what was said, but the next thing we knew, Potter and Draco could be seen everywhere together. Walking together – scaring Hogwarts as a whole half to death when they began eating meals at each others’ tables – talking, fighting, swearing, and everything else. At the time, everyone thought they were in some kind of relationship – but it wasn’t like that. What they had went deeper than a simple fling. For starters it wasn’t sexual; more of a partnership, a bond between soldiers.

 

I have to admit that I was somewhat jealous; I’d been friends with Draco Malfoy since we were in nappies, because our mothers used to get together and drink away their sorrows about their marriages to men who preferred men. The only difference was that my mother kept going through a string of them while Mrs. Malfoy only had the one. And I only know about my sire because I heard her once when she was drunk; otherwise she’d never say a word about him.

 

I’ve had a crush on Draco Malfoy since … forever it would seem. And seeing him in such close contact with Potter wasn’t helping matters. Oh don’t be ridiculous, of course he didn’t know I was jealous – just what kind of Slytherin do you think I am? I am a lot of things, among them a bastard, perhaps of the literal nature, but I _am_ Slytherin …

 

But, it soon became apparent that the two of them were training together and making battle plans. The professors actually stopped trying to end their fights because usually they’d say that they were practicing battle techniques and strategies; not to mention working on charms, and stealth work … Professor Snape practically had a fit of apoplexy every time he heard that excuse. He couldn’t stand to see any of his snakes so close to the lion’s den.

 

All that paid off when the two of them stood side by side in the middle of the Great Hall as the Dark Lord himself led his last offensive and broke through all of Hogwarts’ seals and wards. I could only watch and take comfort in that Draco’s father was still in Azkaban and that Potter was protecting Draco as much as he was protecting Potter. Watching them cast in tandem made my heart ache, but no one noticed in the insanity of the battle. When the smoke and spell haze cleared, Potter and Draco stood victorious above the pile of ash that had once been the Dark Lord. Amid the cheers no one could hear the single sob that escaped my lips when I saw a look that spoke volumes pass between the two of them. In my mind, I _knew_ they weren’t lovers - they coldn't have been, right? - but at the time, what my mind knew and what my eyes saw were two different concepts entirely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It’s been almost two months since “ _The Last Stand_ ” and I hear there are still places that haven’t stopped partying. All the victors are finally well enough to attend the celebration in their honor, and the Ministry has decided to hold their celebration on an especially auspicious date. I sit at a table near the back with a sneer on my face that would rival Professor Snape’s – and since I can see him glowering from the Head Table, I know just what mine looks like. The Minister just finally finished off the endless speeches and award ceremonies and has allowed the party to really begin.

 

Sitting just a few tables over are the most celebrated duo in this whole debacle. Normally I’d be sitting with Draco and we’d be making biting comments about everyone and everything. But he’s sitting with Potter, and in some ways I’m hurt – and isn’t that most ludicrous thing you’ve ever heard? 

 

Only in the privacy of my own mind do I dare think of my feelings for Draco and this almost irrational jealousy of Potter … but not even there do I allow myself to even think that it might not be Potter and Draco together that affects me. I would never admit that I’d rather be over there with both of them, right in the middle …

 

I shake the thought from my head and when I look up, Potter is leaving the Hall. At first I think that it’s my chance to go reclaim my spot next to my friend, but Draco looks warily about and then leaves as well. No one but myself seems to notice amidst the partying that’s going on around us, but my jealousy overcame me, and the next think I know, I’m following them out the Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I admit that Slytherins crave power and, as it’s well known, knowledge _is_ power. At least that’s what I tell myself as I follow Draco on feet charmed to be silent. I follow the whisper of his cloak down the corridor and around corners for what seemed like forever – he even knew of a secret passageway that I hadn’t. There was the pang of hurt again – we’d always told each other about things like that, no matter the danger from trusting another that way.

 

I follow Draco into a side room and wait a precious few minutes so he wouldn’t suspect that he was followed. He hadn’t shut the door completely, making it easy for me to slip through after him.

 

The room is some sort of unused professor’s quarters; and I sidle my way closer into the room and press myself against the inside corner so I can survey the room with very little possibility of my being seen. I take in the setting with barely a glance as my attention is more focussed on the two wizards whose presences dominate the scene. 

 

Potter is closer to me, so I check first to make sure he can’t see me, but then I got lost in staring. I realize that I’ve been jealous of Potter for months, stared after him when he was walking with Draco and other such things, but I’d never really had the chance to _see_ him as I did now. Potter wasn’t quite the runt he used to be, and that fact is only accentuated by the way he is leaning back on the edge of the desk sans robes. I hadn’t realized how much they concealed; had I known earlier I might have been more jealous than I already was. I rake my gaze down his toned form, from the breadth of his shoulders encased in – surprisingly enough – a deep green poet shirt – with barely a hint of ruffles at the collar and cuffs – down muscled legs encased in dragon hide so tight, I would have sworn it was poured on. Potter is about five feet ten inches tall, just two inches less than myself, but I’m sure he outmuscles me. 

 

Potter is leaning back slightly, one hand planted on the desk behind him for balance and rakes the other through his hair– _Long in front, short in back,_ I noted, inanely wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through it – and says, “I’m so glad that shit’s over and done with.” 

 

Potter’s voice had deepened since I’d last heard it so close; it was low and rather pleasant to listen to. Of course, talking just made me look at his face and I found myself staring again. The glasses must have been tossed somewhere because those famous ‘Avada Kedavra’ green eyes were on display and blazing with power. And without the distraction of those ugly glasses, the lean lines of Potter’s face, high cheekbones, and full mouth were a lot sexier than I’d anticipated … Shit! I thought Potter was sexy? What was the world coming to?!

 

“I agree; I thought that stuffy old twat would never shut up!” Fuck, that was Draco’s voice! I turn my head and could only stare yet again.

 

Draco stood leaning against the window frame, staring off into the distance. Draco’s still his gorgeous self, all alabaster skin, silver eyes and platinum hair. He too must have discarded his robes, as his lean Quidditch-toned muscles were encased in an ice-blue silk shirt and tight black trousers. 

 

“You know Fudge; he just likes to hear himself talk,” Potter says, “though I will say, I’m damn glad to be out of the Great Hall. Was it just me, or were there a Hell of a lot of people whispering that we looked good together? You know anything about that?”

 

“Potter, really? You can’t be that dim, can you? Oh wait, you’re a _Gryffindor_ , of course you’re that dim!” Draco drawls in his typical imperious Malfoy tone.

 

“Enough with the insults, just tell me!” Potter says, his irritation an almost palpable thing.

 

“People think we’re dating, didn’t you know, Potter?”

 

Potter is silent for a moment before he sighs, “I had hoped I’d heard wrong.”

 

Draco laughs, “Don’t be naïve, Potter, between you and I, the rumors abound. Especially ones involving both of us …” he trails off suggestively and Potter groans.

 

“I need a drink – and not that watered-down punch downstairs,” Potter mumbles and in an unprecedented display of – _wandless!_ – magic, Potter Summons a bottle and two glasses from a far cabinet of what appears to be brandy. He poured one for himself and then one for Draco, which floats to his hand. Draco doesn’t even blink, which suggests that he’s seen Potter do this sort of thing before, and takes a drink. “What a way to spend my eighteenth birthday – Fudge and rumors and glory - oh my!” 

 

“Better get used to it, Potter; where you’re concerned rumors will always abound,” Draco says sympathetically. 

 

“So that’s it then? We just let the rumors continue, getting bigger and more ludicrous with every retelling?” Potter asks, his voice bleak, in a manner very unlike himself. 

 

“It might be more to our advantage, you understand, to let those rumors abound, as it were,” Draco muses, his eyes faraway. 

 

“Why’s that?” Potter asks, sounding genuinely curious.

 

“People assume we’re dating because of all the work we’ve done together. That all the fighting in our past was just a sign of mutual attraction and such tripe. Though in a way, it makes sense …”

 

“What makes sense?”

 

“That they’d assume we were dating, after … everything … no one else would understand …” Draco finishes, uncharacteristically sorrowful, staring down into his glass. 

 

“That, of course, assumes that both of us like men … as it stands that might be the only thing they had halfway correct. I straddle the pitch – I like a nice bird just as much as I like a sexy bloke.” 

 

Draco nods and gestures with his glass – which Potter correctly interprets as Draco’s request for a refill, and obliges with a wave of his hand – “Much to my family’s dismay, I prefer blokes. The only thing that stops my father from disowning me is the fact that, if you pay enough, there are potions that can make men ‘carriers’. And considering that I’m a Malfoy, price is not an issue. Finding the right bloodline to carry on the family name is.”

 

Potter looks almost startled at that fact – but then, being raised as a Muggle, I’m not surprised that he wouldn’t know. Male carrier potions are not just rare, but very expensive. However, they work, and that’s all that matters. 

 

Potter’s face morphs from startled to amused and then he snorts inelegantly. 

 

Draco turns to face him and looks partially concerned, “Potter, are you well?”

 

Potter answers through chortles, “Just bleeding fabulous. I just realized the single flaw with the idea of us dating – or even pretending to, as you suggested.” 

 

“Single flaw? And just what might that be?” 

 

“I’ll be blunt. Let’s say we were dating. Which of us would top?”

 

“I would,” they both say simultaneously before staring at each other and sharing a look.

 

“You see?” Potter asks.

 

Draco sighs and looks away, “Yeah, there is that … “ he trails off once more, deep in thought before he looks back at Potter again, “Although …”

 

“Although what, Malfoy?”

 

“There is a precedent for triad households, though admittedly they fell out of favour a number of years ago –“

 

“You must realize that to keep up this sort of charade, we’d need a third.” 

 

“There is that …”

 

“You simply _must_ stop saying that, Malfoy. It makes it sound like you haven’t thought this through – very un-Slytherin of you. But I could be wrong; you could have a very good plan for how we would find a third we could actually stand. How do you propose we find someone who won’t go running to the Daily Prophet the next morning?”

 

Draco is silent; I can see his mind working, but I know his earlier suggestion was probably the alcohol talking – Draco can’t hold his liquor to save his life. 

 

“Well, if you don’t have any suggestions, maybe we better scrap the idea. Or do you have a suggestion for us, Zabini?" Potter asks, looking straight at me.

 

I’m shocked to say the least; I didn’t think that either of them knew I was here. But as I step out around the corner, the smirk on Potter’s face suggests otherwise. And in the corner of my eye, I see Draco’s hand tightening around his glass in the only outward sign of irritation at having one pulled over on him. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Potter,” I drawl, keeping up a facade of nonchalance with a minimum effort , “Maybe you ought to just ask for volunteers; I’m sure _someone_ won’t mind being sandwiched between the two best looking blokes in all of Hogwarts. Powerful too; wandless magic, Potter?”

 

Potter shrugs, “It’s something I picked up by necessity and now it’s second nature. But who do you suggest then? Do we just walk up to someone ask, ‘you wanna be our bitch?’”

 

Something about the way he says that makes my prick twitch even as I reply, “Well, you could always try that first, barring that you might just have to try something else.” Draco doesn’t say a word but I can feel his gaze tracing over me.

 

Potter doesn’t even blink as he sets his glass down and holds out a hand to me, “So, how about it then? You wanna be our bitch, Zabini?”

 

Only because I’ve been in love with Draco for what seems like forever, was I able to hear Draco’s sharp intake of breath – the one that conveys interest – at Potter’s words. There’s a gleam in Potter’s eye that makes me think of Dumbledore – not amusement, but something that makes it seem like he knows more than he’s telling. 

 

I step forward deliberately and place my hand in Potter’s, letting him pull me closer. He unfolds his other leg and leans fully on the desk as he tugs me forward between his spread thighs. So close to him I can practically feel the leashed energy and power that surrounds him – both magical and physical. He raises one hand to my face and draws me in and kisses me. 

 

Oh Merlin on fucking high! Gryffindor he might be, but Golden he is not – there is nothing gentle or even vaguely noble about the way Potter kisses. His lips cover mine and delve deeply into my mouth, nipping, kissing, and sucking until my lips are bruised and swollen. I moan softly in disappointment when he pulls away.

 

Potter’s eyes glitter with a combination of emotions I can’t currently name – being kissed senseless seems to have that effect on me. Potter brushes his thumb over my tender lower lip and murmurs, “So pretty like this.” I didn’t think he could affect me like that, but at his words I shiver and lean closer, hoping for another kiss.

 

“But Draco doesn’t seem convinced that this is a good idea. Why don’t you go over and show him exactly why this is a _very_ good idea?” Potter continues and drops his hand. I shiver again but now at the thought of being _this_ close to making one of my fantasies a reality. 

 

I turn to do just that, because truthfully? I don’t think I could have approached Draco under other circumstances. But I’d already heard his ‘tell’; I knew he was interested and that gave me an almost Gryffindor-like sense of courage.

 

I walk over to Draco and it’s so satisfying to see the look of appreciation in his eyes as they rake over my form. I’m built like Draco, long and lean – albeit perhaps a touch shorter– and it might sound rather arrogant, but I know I look good. 

 

I stop in front of Draco and take his empty glass from unresisting fingers. I drop it to the floor with a heavy ‘ _thunk_ ’ that goes unnoticed. With hands that barely tremble, I reach out to cup Draco’s face and pull him into a soft kiss. He reaches out, tugs me closer with a knuckle under my chin, and kisses me back softly, slowly making his way deeper into my mouth, claiming his own spot there. 

 

That’s the main difference between kissing the two of them. Potter is a like a force of nature; rough and strong, leaving the recipient with no choice but to hang on for the ride – and what a ride it is. He is definitely the more physical and passionate. Draco on the other hand, is a Malfoy to the core; suave and persuasive. He likes the slow, calculated approach. He starts things slowly and then works his way forward until he overwhelms you. Like walking deeper and deeper into a hidden trap, one you don’t recognize until it’s too late. 

 

Caught up in Draco’s kiss, I don’t realize Potter’s changed places until I feel his arm wrap loosely around my hip. I pull away from Draco at Potter’s touch and look over at him. He’s not looking at me though, he’s looking at Draco, and he lookes back. They both lean forward at the same time, and meet in a kiss so hot, I’m surprised that the air around them isn’t scorched. The kiss between the two of them is a battle for dominance; neither of them giving an inch, tongue-fucking each other to the point where I believe they've forgotten me. 

 

I reach out with a single finger and trail it over Draco’s cheek until I reach the spot where their lips are joined together. Two sets of teeth nip me and I shiver at the look in their eyes as they break apart.

 

“Now he seems convinced. Shall we up the stakes a bit?” Potter asks, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle in the hollow of my hip. I tremble slightly at the implication and Draco picks up on it easily.

 

“Perhaps,” Draco murmurs before his lips cover mine again. I lose myself in his kiss. When Draco breaks the kiss, I realize that we’re standing by the bed - though I'm not sure how we got there. 

 

“Suck him,” Potter whispers hotly in my ear as he presses Draco down to sit on the edge of the bed. My prick jerks at the suggestion and when I dare a quick glance at Draco’s face, I can see that his eyes have changed to a molten silver colour of heated desire. There's a part of me that wonders at how easily they take to their roles and how effortlessly they pass commad back and forth between them but I shut that avenue of thought down quickly. Because the frightening idea that reared its head, was what if the two of them had done this before?

 

No! I shove the idea away and without another thought, I drop to my knees, my hands on the buttons of Draco’s trousers. He lifts up slightly so I can get them down and then his cock springs free. _No pants, Draco?_ I though briefly as I stare at the rosy head topping a long narrow shaft for a brief moment, my mouth watering, before leaning forward and sucking the tip into my mouth.

 

I realize I probably should have taken the time to tease Draco a bit more, but I’m too hungry to have my long-time love inside of me. I nearly gag due to lack of recent practice, but it soon subsides. I swipe my tongue over Draco’s slit, teasing just a little of the bitter, salty fluid from his hard shaft. He groans softly and one hand moves to cup the back of my head, his fingers rubbing lightly over my short-cropped hair.

 

With a little effort, I remember the way of doing this that my former partners loved: slow strokes with my tongue, up and over the shaft; soft suction as I work him deeper into my mouth; the slight whimpers that escape my throat as I feel this fantasy-turned-reality press himself further into me. “Fuck, that’s hot,” I hear Potter mutter say – just remembering that there’s another person in the room makes me groan in shameful pleasure. Apparently reacting to the vibrations of my mouth around him, Draco moans loudly and presses my head down firmly on his cock. The fluttering of my gag reflex nearly undoes him, for he curses and drags me off for a long minute. When his grip relents, I’ve got him back down my throat in a heartbeat, sucking for all I’m worth (which at last check is about one hundred forty-three million Galleons – rather behind the Malfoys, but not by much). 

 

Underneath the sounds of Draco’s panting breaths and my quiet moans, I hear another noise; the soft sounds of clothing rustling as Potter strips. Draco groans appreciatively and says, “Not bad, Potter, not bad. Maybe Blaise here should show you just how much he appreciates you bringing us together. Why don’t you get on up here and see for yourself just what a good cocksucker he is?”

 

Potter’s low chuckle brings me out of my haze and I lift up off of Draco’s cock to stare at the Boy Who Lived. Dense muscles with a smattering of dark hair and scar tissue cover his body. My eyes follow the thin, dark trail down Potter’s stomach to his cock, at which point I begin drooling. Potter’s not quite as long as Draco, but he’s thick. Draco’s length makes me want him to fuck me ‘til I feel him in my throat, but Potter’s makes my arsehole spasm at the thought of him stretching me. At the sight of both of them, my prick throbs hotly, reminding me sharply that I haven’t been well-fucked in almost five months.

 

Potter stretches languidly before walking over to the other side of the bed to climb on, kneeling by the headboard. “Zabini,” he says in a low commanding tone that sets my pulse racing, “you’re overdressed. Show us what we’re getting.” Draco nods his agreement before he too stands and strips out of the rest of his clothes. I stare at Draco’s alabaster perfection for a long minute, before Draco clears his throat to remind me of what I should be doing. 

 

I stand, and with visibly shaking hands, I strip off my robes and peel my shirt over my head. I toe out of my boots and slide my trousers and pants down my hips and stand naked before them. I’m darker than both of them and the thought of being between them, both so much lighter, paints an erotic picture in my head. “So pretty,” Potter murmurs again and then crooks two long fingers at me to come to him. 

 

I step past Draco and climb on the bed, crawling over to Potter. He lays a hand on my head, fingers petting me softly and then presses down lightly. I take the hint and lower my head to his cock, I sticking out my tongue and licking a long stripe from base to tip. Potter’s cock twitches and he exhales sharply. I open my mouth and suck just the tip of Potter’s prick, wrapping a hand around the base. He tastes slightly sweeter than Draco and is definitely a tighter fit. 

 

Ever so slowly (mostly due breathing around Potter’s bulk), I work my mouth around him, taking him deeper into my throat. I moan softly around him; even more so than sucking Draco, it feels good to stretch my mouth around the Saviour’s cock.

 

Potter’s breathing sounds too controlled for my liking; here I am, on all fours before him, moaning like a Knockturn alley whore around his prick, and he seems barely affected! I admit, that stings my pride more than anything, so what’s a good Slytherin to do? Even the playing field, of course. I double the tongue play around Potter’s cock, stroking him in tandem with what I can’t fit in my mouth.

 

Potter groans quietly and then both his hands are on my head, his hips rocking against my face. Vaguely, I hear Draco murmur, “Fuck, that’s hot,” but I’m too busy gagging for Potter’s cock to pay much attention. 

 

At least until Draco says, “Stop for a second, Potter – I want to fuck him.” I moan loudly at that – I've only wanted to be fucked by him since I hit puberty! Potter listens and pulls back, holding my head in his hands. 

 

I whine plaintively at having to stop sucking Potter but then a slick finger traces the rim of my arsehole. I whimper and spread my legs wider, burying my face in the mattress. Potter and Draco both chuckle – damn them! – while Draco continues to tease. His slick finger runs over my hole, again and again, and I tremble under his teasing touch. 

 

Draco kneels behind me and breathes softly over my hole. I can feel myself spasming at the slightest puff of air while mewling cries leave my lips. Potter pets my head gently and then reaches under me to pinch one of my nipples just as Draco slams a finger into me. I shudder violently with a loud cry; I would have come at just that but for Draco’s other hand yanking on my sac. 

 

“Only when we tell you to; can you do that for us, pretty?” Potter asks. Hopefully he wasn’t expecting an answer, because I can barely think straight with Draco’s finger working inside of me. He adds a second finger and I gasp when he brushes my prostate. Every plunge and retreat burns; my every nerve ending tingles and its all I can do to hold onto consciousness. 

 

I hiss at the slight sting when Draco adds a third finger – but Potter reaches under me and distracts me. Four hands on my body at once is almost too much; Potter’s rolling my nipples between calloused fingers, Draco’s fingers are buried deep within my body and the other strokes my skin languidly. I tremble beneath their hands; it’s not enough, and I want them to just get on with it and fuck me already.

 

Like they read my mind, both of them pull back and manhandle me up on my hands and knees. Draco pulls my hips back at to a more enticing angle, and Potter tilts my face up to look at him. His eyes are nearly black and glitter with desire. “Ready for us, Zab – Blaise,” he corrects himself and I shiver at the sound of my name on his lips even as I nod vigorously. “Take him, Draco,” Potter says, lifting his eyes from me for a moment.

 

“My pleasure,” Draco purrs and presses the head of his cock into me unhurriedly. My mouth opens and my mind goes blank with pleasure. Amid my mewls and gasps, Draco eventually bottoms out inside of me, his hands running up and down my sides in a soothing manner. “Still with us?” he asks.

 

I can’t speak; at last this fantasy of mine is reality, having Draco Malfoy inside of me. I clench hard around him in lieu of a verbal reply. Draco gasps and shudders. “Potter, since he’s incapable of speaking anyway, perhaps you might find something he could do with that mouth?”

 

Potter laughs quietly but doesn’t reply. He tilts my head slightly and then presses his cock against the seam of my lips. I groan and open wide to accommodate him. I gag slightly around him, but I just let him fuck my mouth languidly, slow and deep, dragging my tongue over him as he moves.

 

He and Draco waste no time; Draco pulls back and slams into me. With a few minute movements he’s pressed against my prostate and I can’t help the cries coming from my throat, muffled as they are by Potter’s cock in my mouth. Draco and Potter seem to be communicating silently, for they both establish the same rhythm, pulling back all the way until they both slip free of me, listen to me whine for a moment before pushing back in.

 

My cock leaks like mad but I don’t have a hand to spare for myself or the breath to ask Draco to touch me. I can’t move pinned between Potter’s hands holding my head and Draco’s unrelenting grip on my hips, but right now, there’s nowhere I’d rather be but on my knees, naked and taken by these two. I can practically feel the magic running through their bodies as they plunge into me again and again, and I’ll be damned if power isn’t an aphrodisiac as my own frustration mounts.

 

They are merciless as they keep fucking me, Draco’s low groans and Potter’s harsh breathing as a backdrop against my stifled cries. “Potter, off,” Draco says suddenly, his voice raspy, “I want to hear him.”

 

Potter must agree, because he eases out of me and lets my head drop. Draco shoves me forward and goes after my prostate with a vengeance; using long, slow strokes, dragging his cockhead over my prostate. My arms buckle and I drop to my elbows, crying out with every thrust. Every time he brushes my prostate, I clench involuntarily, and Draco growls low in his throat. 

 

A dry finger ghosts over the tip of my cock and Potter's voice in my ear rumbles, “Beg for us.” 

 

I gasp out, “Please – please, just don’t stop! OH!” My voice breaks off in a whine as the hand grabs my sac and pulls just as Draco lets out a snarl and thrusts deep, emptying himself within my shuddering body. 

 

Draco slumps over me, supporting himself with his hands on the mattress and his body a warm weight against my back. I need to come, my body and my voice practically crying for it but their command overrides my response. Draco sighs and plants a tender kiss on my shoulder before he pulls out, much to my dismay. I’m struck by this – dare I say, sweet? – gesture and then Draco says with a laugh, “I think he’s loose enough for you now, don’t you think, Potter?”

 

Potter laughs as well and then the two of them are switching spots; Potter kneeling between my spread thighs and Draco lying idly along my side. Potter’s hands grab my hips, his thumbs spreading my cheeks and asks, “Want to come yet?”

 

I whine and shift my hips in his grasp, and with a smile I can _hear_ he replies, “When I say, not before.” Potter presses into me fairly easily, but even after Draco’s rather spectacular fucking; Potter’s still big enough to stretch me further. Potter sinks himself balls deep, the way smooth from Draco’s come – and just the thought make me shiver with hedonistic pleasure. 

 

Potter wastes no time, pulling back and slamming into me. He’s purposely missing my prostate, stretching me further and further and he tells me why in a low animalistic growl, “This I what you wanted, wasn’t it, Blaise? To be pinned and used, taken and fucked?" His words are the mirror of what I’d been thinking and I gasp as he speaks.

 

“That’s what you’ll get; we’re not done with you, not by a long shot. Tomorrow, you’ll barely be able to walk without remembering we fucked you. You'll barely sit without wincing. Wouldn’t you like that, our own personalized claim on you, deep within you?” Potter’s words sound as if they’ve been forced through bricks – rough and harsh, spoken in short, phrase between thrusts as he hammers into me. 

 

I couldn’t help it; the picture he paints with his words – and the feeling of being just as stretched as he promised -- are almost too much. My cries reached new heights and then became a wail as Draco’s hand began tracing over my cock. The friction isn’t enough, not _nearly_ enough and I can’t do anything due to Potter’s grip on me.

 

Potter began pounding me even faster, his thrusts harsher and almost painful, but even that pain felt so good. “Come for us, Blaise,” Draco orders, stroking me faster with every word, “take Potter over the edge with you. Tighten around him like a good bitch.” 

 

My body locks down as I scream, tightening around Potter, as my orgasm lashes through my body. Potter swears and slams into me twice more before holding deep inside me and shuddering. I collapse onto the mattress, unmindful of ‘the wet spot’ and Potter follows me down, solid and comforting against my back.

 

I’m exhausted, so I barely paid any mind as a Cleaning Spell washes over me and they manhandle me up the bed. I end up with my head pillowed on Draco’s chest, one of his hands running over my head and Potter pressed against my back, one arm thrown lazily over both Draco and I. I suppose I’ll have to call him Harry now, after all, he was just buried balls deep in my ass – and considering I want him to do it again.

 

“I admit,” Draco says over my head to Pot – Harry, “this was a good idea.” I smile at his admission and press a soft kiss to Draco’s skin before nodding off.

_____________________________________________________________

Third Person POV

 

Harry looks down at Blaise’s sleeping form and then back up at Draco. “Told you all he needed was an excuse.”

 

Draco rolls his eyes but admits readily enough, “I had my misgivings about orchestrating this whole thing, but here we are. I mean, you and I got together easily enough – as I said, no one else would understand. But since we were always tussling for the top, having a third was put best option. But it was just a thought for a while, a fantasy we’d created. So how in the world did you know he wanted this?” 

 

Harry smiles enigmatically, “I didn’t, I guessed. You complaining, especially since I told you he’d been watching you?”

 

Draco looks down at Blaise’s dark head on his chest and smiles. “Hell no,” he replies before settling down. The night wasn’t over yet, as Harry had said, and Draco planned on getting at least one more fuck in before dawn. After all -- he cut his eyes to Potter, watching him get comfortable -- they still had to finish celebrating Harry’s birthday.

_Finite_


End file.
